


Trapped

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Series: Logan's Run [1]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cruelty, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Issues, Medical Experimentation, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rage, Revenge, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:45:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: Following the events of X-1 with canon divergence. Logan and Jean discover they're each other's soul mates and try to navigate their brand-new relationship in the midst of all the violence and drama that entails life as a mutant. Some liberties taken with timelines, but not too much (only because all the shots in Canada during X-2 are snowy but the shots in New York look like summer). Moderate canon divergence, not compliant with X-3 and later movies.





	1. It's Fine

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE DO NOT SKEWER ME FOR THIS. I've never written for this fandom before but I've read other people's fics on this pairing, I always wanted Jean to get with Logan in the movies so I decided to write this. I did my absolute best to stay loyal to the characters, though I did make Wolverine a bit more savage like he is in the comics and the two films about him that were directed by James Mangold. Let's face it, his brutal nature got cut off at the knees by a PG-13 rating in most of the movies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know the image is from The Wolverine and I said that this story isn't compliant with anything later than X-2, but I thought it was perfect just because of the angst on Logan's face.

 

 

 

Like always when she walked over to the table in the infirmary, Jean couldn’t help but remember the first time Logan had been here, panicked and choking her before bolting out the door. She didn’t know why, but something had been tingling in the back of her mind then, so faint that she almost hadn’t noticed it. Then, when she’d been settling him into his new room and briefly looked into his mind, she’d felt it again, almost like the pins-and-needles feeling if circulation gets cut off in an extremity. She was feeling it now, too.

Logan was as silent and unmoving as he’d been for the past week, his chest layered with bandages and an oxygen cannula in his nose, making Jean reflect for at least the third time on how odd it was to see him like this. This man was always on guard, looking for potential threats and escape routes with his hands balled into fists as confusion and rage rolled from his mind in waves. And when he _wasn’t_ doing those things, it was either because he was tossing in his sleep from nightmares or hanging around her making racy comments with an arrogant smirk.

The gashes across his face seemed to have knit back together by now, she noted, moving to check the wounds in his upper body. The gauze dressings were stained with coagulated blood, but underneath there weren’t even the faintest scars to suggest an injury had taken place. Peeling back the abdominal pad showed the same thing, just smooth skin and dark body hair with no evidence of being clawed viciously by Sabertooth. Jean knew about his healing factor, but it was still amazing to witness, and she rested her palm where the bandage had been taped to his body. He flinched at her touch, sucking in a quiet gasp and grabbing onto her hand.

“Mph,” Logan grunted, not opening his eyes. “That tickles.”

Jean smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he repeated softly, slowly looking up at her.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Fantastic,” he breathed, and despite the hint of sarcasm in his voice he looked uncharacteristically relaxed.

“That was a brave thing you did,” Jean remarked.

Logan gave an almost-frown. “Did it work?”

“Yeah. She’s fine. She took on a few of your more charming personality traits for a while…” He snorted at that. “...but we lived through it.” Jean paused for a moment, and then smiled at him again with some amusement. “I think she’s a little taken with you.”

Logan had closed his eyes again, but as he spoke they opened and found hers. “Well… you can tell her my heart belongs to someone else.”

Jean felt her expression freeze. If she’d read those words in a novel, they would’ve seemed distractingly cliched, but coming from him they were surprisingly touching. She couldn’t imagine how hard it was for a man like Logan to say something so sappy.

“I know…” she whispered after a moment. Before, Jean would never admit it even to herself, but she knew his attraction wasn’t exactly one-sided. She struggled to think of the right words. “You and I-”

“How’s the professor?” Logan interrupted, his face telling her he already knew she couldn’t pick him over Scott. Surprisingly, though, he also looked like he was at peace with that fact, at least for now.

“He’s good,” Jean answered quietly, still watching him. His hazel eyes changed to reflect his mood, more on the soft brown end of the spectrum with the warmth he felt towards her as opposed to the sharp green that flashed forward if he felt angry or threatened.

“Good.” Logan gently pulled her hand upward and planted a light kiss on her fingers. Even without trying to hear his thoughts, she could see everything he felt in his expression: _I know you’ll never pick me, and I wouldn’t pick me either… but I still love you and I’ll be your friend._

 

Logan kept debating in his head as he expertly packed a couple extra sets of clothes, every movement causing his dog tags to rattle until he got annoyed and tucked them under his shirt. A roll of duct tape and a very basic repair kit went into his pack, and he didn’t really need anything else besides his wallet. Any potential injuries would heal themselves of course, and if there was ever a day he didn’t find a gas station convenient store he could just dig some small animal out of its nest and eat that.

“The professor said you were leaving us. I didn’t know it would be so soon, though.”

Logan wasn’t surprised at the sound of Jean’s voice behind him; he’d heard her coming down the hall. He was curious why she came to see him, though. Usually it was _him_ looking for an excuse to bother _her._

“Heading out tomorrow,” he grunted, yanking on the zipper of his pack. When Logan turned to look, she was leaning on the door frame of his room with her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. He felt like she was studying him. “You need something from me?”

Jean suddenly let uncertainty show through her expression. “Can you show me your claws?” she asked after a short moment of silence.

“Yeah, but why?” Logan frowned, folding his muscular arms across his chest.

“I just want to see something,” she answered vaguely.

Logan’s eyebrows pushed closer together if it was possible, but he started rolling up the sleeves of his flannel without saying anything else. He could feel her eyes following the metal blades as they rippled visibly under his skin, eventually sliding smoothly from between his fingers to their full length. He held out an arm for her as she walked further into the room, looking away and focusing very hard to control the direction his blood was flowing when he felt her fingers running lightly over his wrist.

“You wanna tell me what this is about?” Logan prodded, still intently staring at where his pack sat on his bed.

“I will in a minute,” Jean promised, feeling the bones in his hand where his claws had slid through. “Have you noticed any changes?”

“What, with my claws? No,” Logan shook his head. It wasn’t exactly a lie; there was nothing different about the foot-long blades.

“No, I mean at all,” she clarified, sounding slightly nervous.

His breath caught in his throat and he swallowed - it was because she made skin contact. She knew.

“Yeah, I… with my eyes,” Logan answered slowly, swallowing hard and still not turning back to Jean. “Used to be colorblind. Don’t remember, but I think it was my whole life. Now, though, I can see colors. Been seeing color since I woke up in medical. Hell, why do you gotta ask me about this? You can just read my thoughts, you already know it. And what about my claws?”

“Look at my hands,” Jean whispered.

Logan finally turned back to her and watched, stunned, as she pushed up the sleeves of her lab coat. He didn’t know what to say at first, because the lines running up her skin hadn’t been there yesterday and were unmistakably a mirror for the path his claws made through his own arms. In his shock, he felt the long blades slide back up into his limbs, stopping just before his elbows at precisely where the marks ended on hers.

Eventually he found his voice again, and he cleared his throat. “Um… what did Scott say about this?”

“He doesn’t know yet,” Jean admitted, looking down at her feet. “Usually only humans get these…”

“Yeah, you know why that is? It’s ’cause ‘real’ humans kill us before we get the chance to find who we’re s’posed to be with,” Logan growled, unable to hide his disgust. Then he calmed down again. “Look. I’ll be gone tomorrow morning, probably for several months. Maybe when I come back, I’ll just grab my shit and leave. You can talk to Slim tomorrow after I leave and tell him whatever you want. I know you don’t wanna pick me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, clenching his fingers into his palms. His claws itched under his skin, making him hunger to bury them in some enemy and let out his rage. He really just needed to kill something right now.

“Logan-” Jean tried to say.

“It’s fine,” he managed to growl through his clenched jaw.

It _had_ been fine, actually, until she’d come to show him this. He’d been okay with her decision to stay with Scott… but now, even marked for him and knowing he’d been marked for her, he still couldn’t have her.

“ _Logan,_ ” she repeated in a much firmer voice. “Calm down. If you really do want to go back to the life you had before, I won’t stop you, but don’t leave because of something like this. Rogue still wants you to be here, and whether you like it or not you have friends now. So take your trip to Alkali, be alone for a couple of months, and think this over. I’ll talk about… this… with Scott while you’re gone, and let you know when you get back.”

Her words caught him totally off-guard, and he immediately stomped down on the spark of hope that came to his mind. Hope was the most damaging thing for him.

“So, you’re gonna…?” Logan let the question hang in the air, fixing her with his eyes and not blinking.

“Like I said, I’ll try to work things out while you’re gone.”

Logan knew she didn’t intend it, but Jean’s choice of words only made him want to tear apart small animals even more.

 

Logan couldn’t help the feeling of impending doom as he hurtled down the road, air screaming past his ears from the ridiculous speed. The professor had even warned him that there wasn’t much left of the base at Alkali Lake, so why was he upset over the fact that he’d found nothing? Even after a couple of weeks straight just driving with barely any sleep, he couldn’t erase the frustration and anger at the fact that he was returning to New York with absolutely nothing. And even once he got there, he’d have even less.

 _Fuck you, Slim,_ Logan thought bitterly. _It ain’t your mark on her arms, but she always picks you anyway._

Once again he reflected on the day before he’d left for Canada. He’d know it then just like he knew it now; if Jean hadn’t come to him with his soul marks on her skin, he probably would’ve been okay just being her friend.

 _But no,_ Logan mocked in his head. _You had to fucking show me… knew as soon as I saw you and the whole world turned to color, but I could’a ignored it if you only kept your arms to yourself._

He wasn’t mad at her, though. It actually only made Logan hate his life in general. If he was anyone else, maybe he’d have had a shot with her. Hell, if he was anyone else, maybe he’d never have even _met_ Jean, and he wouldn’t be in this situation at all. Or at least he’d remember enough of himself to convince her she’d be happy with him.

These thoughts had been running on a loop in his mind since he’d left Alkali Lake, and kept playing until he made it back to Salem. It was mid-afternoon as he finally pulled Scott’s motorcycle back into the garage. In spite of his healing factor alleviating any sore muscles or stiff joints from continuously riding for weeks on end, it didn’t prevent the mental weariness he felt, and it wasn’t helped at all when Logan saw the machine’s owner standing in the back corner of the garage with an unreadable expression.

“Wolverine,” Scott greeted, nodding his head ever so slightly. His voice betrayed nothing.

“Boy Scout,” Logan grunted, cocking an eyebrow. “Your bike needs gas.”

“You’ve been back for two seconds and you’re already trying to pick a fight with me. That seems rushed, even for you.”

“Look, Slim, I’m really not in the mood right now,” he growled.

“We need to talk, Logan.” Scott’s voice was still infuriatingly calm.

“Yeah, fuck off,” he snorted dismissively, moving to turn away. “Already said I ain’t in the mood. Can rub it in my face tomorrow when I got the motivation to kick your ass after.”

“I’m not here to rub anything in your face.” That stopped Logan dead in his tracks, and Scott’s next words made his breath catch in his throat. “I told her she can be with you if she wants. I don’t have anyone’s mark, and I haven’t had any physical changes either. But my parents had each other’s marks, and… I didn’t want to say it. If you were me, you wouldn’t want to either. Just make sure she’s happy, okay?”

Logan stood frozen for an indeterminate amount of time while he processed this information. Eventually he found himself again and was able to look over his shoulder at his rival.

“She really didn’t pick you?”

“Jean didn’t pick at all,” Scott shook his head. “I did. I don’t like you, Logan.”

“No shit.”

“But she told me about your vision turning to color. And if you’re on her skin, then I don’t have the right to stop her from being happy.”

Very slowly, Logan turned back around so he was fully facing the other mutant. He felt oddly humbled, momentarily stifling his usual boiling fury.

“Look, Slim, I don’t like you too much, either. Don’t think we’ll ever be friends. But believe it or not, I… I know how shitty it probably feels for you. So, uh, thank you. For being a better man than me.” He felt like he was choking on the words, but also found a new respect for Scott, so he owed it. “And for what it’s worth, yeah. Gonna do everything I know how to make her happy.”

They parted ways after that, and once Logan had gotten greetings from several people he dumped his pack and leather jacket in his room. A quick check of the air in the hall told him Jean hadn’t been in the teacher dorms for several hours, so he went down to the lower level, figuring she’d be in the infirmary. Her sweet scent grew stronger with every step, and he found himself smirking as he crept up to the door. Logan’s sharp ears picked up an obvious phone conversation, so he lurked silently in a corner until it ended. Before she even had the chance to hang up the receiver he grabbed her around the waist from behind, pulling her suddenly against him and drawing a startled yelp.

Logan jumped back with a similar shout when Jean spun in his arms and tickled him. He felt a tingling in his chest that he didn’t recognize, but it was somehow warm and pleasant.

“So I guess you ran into Scott already?” Jean was giving him one of her perfect smiles, making the sun look like a dead bulb by comparison.

Logan almost never smiled as a rule, but he did manage a smirk and hoped it looked friendly enough. He couldn’t find words, but also felt like he didn’t need to. His arms pulled her in, more gently this time, so that she was embraced securely into his chest.

“He told me what you talked about,” Logan affirmed, taking in the pleasant smell of her hair products. “That you didn’t want to choose.”

“I just-”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted. “You and Slim been together for a while before I got here. Thought I’d come back here and you’d stick with him again… but I’m still on your hands.”

“You want me to say it,” Jean chuckled, pulling back slightly to look at him.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’m glad you have an understanding with Scott, now, and that you’re not mad at me for having a hard time with this.”

“Don’t think I could ever get mad at you,” Logan admitted, watching her pretty eyes as they seemed to brighten even more. “I’m so tickled at my claws on your arms that I even said something nice to Boy Scout earlier.”

“You must be getting sick,” she joked, then leaned back into him. “I asked Professor Xavier about soulmate marks a few days ago.”

“What’d he say?”

“They’re indicative of our personality traits, actually,” Jean explained. “Your vision turned to color because before this your life was bleak, but now it’s brighter.”

“Makes sense… don’t even remember most of my life, but yeah, before now it was pretty fucking depressing. So what about yours?”

“I’m kind of a perfectionist.” Jean’s voice had a note of embarrassment. “Everything for me is looking professional for medical conferences, I became a doctor exactly on time, I’m a mutant rights activist, and so many people depend on me for things that I can’t shake the idea of being exactly what everyone needs me to be all the time and… and Scott was a perfect boyfriend, so I was afraid of being attracted to you. Charles said your mark showed up on my hands like this because there’s no way to hide it, and it’ll help me accept that I don’t always have to be perfect all the time.”

“Hey,” Logan murmured, cupping her face in his big hands. “You don’t gotta be perfect. Already are to me.”

He lightly kissed her forehead, suddenly realizing he couldn’t remember ever feeling at peace with the world like this. Suddenly Alkali Lake didn’t matter as much, it wasn’t so important that he couldn’t remember who he was. There was an intelligent, kind, beautiful woman in his arms, and even before he knew she was his soulmate he’d started falling in love with her. But now he _did_ know, and the simple lines running up her hands and forearms like ink meant that he was hers, too.

“What are you thinking about?” Jean wondered.

“This. Us. Never thought I’d be part of an ‘us,’” Logan admitted. He slipped his fingers into hers, curling them together. “You doing anything important down here?”

“Not really.”

“Good.”

Leading her gently by the hand, Logan pulled her away from medical and up every flight of stairs, eventually ending with them on the roof of the mansion.

“It’s not warm out here,” Jean pointed out, immediately shivering.

“Sorry.” He shrugged out of his flannel and wrapped it around her over her lab coat, then sat her down on the edge beside him with his arm across her shoulders and their feet dangling. The days were short this time of year, so even though it wasn’t especially late the sun was already setting, making the sky look like it was on fire. _Not as pretty as Jean, though,_ Logan thought to himself.

_You know I can hear you thinking when you’re this close._

He jumped a little at the sensation of her in his mind, mostly surprised by the fact that it was more feeling the words than hearing them. But it wasn’t like an intrusion, the way it usually was when a telepath read him. This was much more comfortable, as if a missing piece had been inserted and reconnected. Logan squeezed Jean tighter against his side, enjoying the warmth of her on his body.

“I don’t think you’ve ever been still this long without being unconscious,” she noted.

“Don’t like sitting still,” he shrugged. “Vulnerable.”

“But you’re doing it now. Who knew it would be so easy to tame the wild Wolverine?”

Logan snickered. “You ain’t seen wild yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to use the actual lines from the movie when I can. Obviously things diverge pretty quickly though, so eventually I'm not able to do it anymore.


	2. Impaled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut in this chapter :)

_ Way to go, Dr. Grey, _ Jean thought to herself sarcastically.  _ This makes you look good. _

It had been three days since she’d started dating Logan, and even though she’d been in her own room more than a month and a half once she and Scott had separated, now she was lying awake in Logan’s bed. He was curled into a ball facing away from her, his muscles tense even in slumber and ready to impale anyone who got too close without thinking. Nothing had happened between them, but it still made her feel disappointed in herself. She’d been with Scott much longer than this before they’d started sleeping in the same room.

_ Stop it, _ Jean thought back at her own nagging mind, staring at her hands in the darkness even though she couldn’t see the lines.  _ You don’t have to be perfect for anyone anymore, Logan wants you just the way you are and doesn’t care if you’re flawless or not. _

Speaking of Logan. He was starting to twitch, whimpering something indecipherable that sounded like he was reliving something especially painful. Remembering what had happened to poor Rogue, Jean didn’t dare touch him, but carefully reached for the surface of his mind. Without warning she lost control and was sucked into the dark void of Logan’s subconscious, feeling like she was drowning in blood as red-hot surgical tools sliced through her. Some part of her that wasn’t immediately shocked and horrified realized he was dreaming about the experimental procedure grafting adamantium to his bones.

Jean grasped for that tiny corner of her own consciousness, struggling to pull away from the grip of her boyfriend’s nightmare. It was like trying to swim through molasses, but eventually she freed herself and projected a flood of soothing emotions and calm thoughts into his subconscious. In the physical realm she felt him relax almost immediately, and after she retreated from his head he sighed peacefully. Jean smiled, tenderly smoothing down the fluffy black hair where his neck met his skull. Logan must have sensed her through his sleep, because he rolled over onto his other side and pulled her to his chest before settling again.

He was completely still aside from breathing once his heavy limbs had wrapped possessively around Jean’s much more slender body. Even relaxed, Logan’s muscular form was still very hard, but there was a warm protectiveness to it that she couldn’t help enjoying.

Jean didn’t remember falling asleep, but when she woke up the next morning it was because Logan had rolled almost completely over her and he was so heavy that she couldn’t breathe. The tips of his claws poked out of his skin and retracted in time with his snores, and even though he was clearly sleeping heavily she was nervous about disturbing him. She could go without oxygen for a few more minutes, she reasoned.

_ Logan, _ Jean thought, probing his mind. He was deep inside his own subconscious, having what was probably his first good dream in years. She felt her cheeks flush when she realized  _ exactly _ what he was seeing in his mind’s eye, and quickly pulled away before she could get sucked in again. Jean took a deep breath.  _ Logan, _ she projected, a little more forcefully. He still didn’t show any reaction.  _ LOGAN! _

Logan snorted inward suddenly, sounding louder than it was because the room had been quiet before that. Grumbling something Jean couldn’t make out, he rolled onto his back and sprawled, finally letting her breathe again. She thought he’d gone back to sleep until a few seconds later when he growled deep in his chest and stretched. Logan did some amount of thrashing to untangle himself from the blankets, but somehow, with the legs of his sweatpants bunched at his knees and his wife beater twisted up on his torso, Jean found herself thinking he was incredibly sexy in his erratic motions.

“Mph,” Logan grunted, scratching the side of his neck and reaching around with his hand until it found one of hers. “Still here.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Jean chuckled, giving his fingers a light squeeze.

“I like this,” he murmured. “Bed smells like you. You smell like me. My shirt smells like your hair.”

“What’s your thing with my hair?” she smiled, watching his eyes open and find hers.

“It’s gorgeous,” Logan smirked. “And so soft.” He rolled over to face her, tangling his fingers gently in her long red locks. “Smells nice, like girly flowery things. But in a good way. The kind of girly flowery things that smell good on you.”

Jean snuggled into him, finding the pocket of warmth between his arms and chest that was perfect in a cold morning. Logan rubbed his hands along her back and kissed the bridge of her nose.

“Never thought I’d get to have this,” he rumbled, the words vibrating slightly in his ribs. She loved his voice like this, when he was being quiet and tender with her. “Wake up and you’re here with me, and I ain’t screaming or trying to stab someone. You just smiling and I’m holding you… could get used to this. I hope you’ll let me.”

“I might have to,” Jean chuckled, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. “Even though you rolled over and crushed me.”

“Mmm, I wanted to be close to you.” Logan’s voice had shifted to a surprisingly playful growl, but she understood why when he shifted and she could feel… oh, God. “Can’t help it,” he apologized, not sounding the least bit sorry.

“I don’t feel like getting  _ impaled _ this morning,” she told him, though she meant it to be a joke and not trying to sound hurtful.

“Impaled is a good word,” Logan snickered, rubbing into the top of her thigh. “You like it.”

“How do you know?” Jean grinned against his throat, feeling his strong pulse under her lips.

“I can smell it,” he answered, amusement and desire thick in his tone. “Damn, you’re almost as excited as me right now.” Unexpectedly, his voice softened again after that. “It’s okay. If you ain’t ready yet, won’t make you. Never try and force anything. That’s what cold showers are for.”

“But you’re immune to cold,” Jean remembered.

“Yeah,” Logan sighed, “it’s really the ritual of it. It’s okay, Jeannie. I’d never try and force you.”

“I know,” she nodded. And she did know. He’d die before he let anything happen to her, and kill anyone who tried. The idea of attacking her himself would be unthinkable for him. “Go torture yourself in the shower, I have to get ready for work.”

“It’s Saturday. You don’t have work.”

Jean was startled to realize he was right. There was no class on weekends, and she’d completely forgotten what day it was. She’d been too distracted by lust to think straight. After a moment, though, logical thought escaped her again. Logan had been her boyfriend for three days, but they were already cuddling up together to fall asleep, and she helped him not to have nightmares.

Somehow, though, it just felt fine to her, even though she’d been beating herself up for it last night. Logan’s soul marks were on her arms, and it was obvious to even the most socially inept people that he was beyond head-over-heels for her. Something about being here with him, lying in the warmth of his arms, was almost divine. It just seemed  _ right. _

Jean almost didn’t realize she’d made up her mind until she’d brought her face even with his and they were kissing. Because she did want to be with him, and she knew it. It was actually surprising - she’d expected a certain amount of roughness from Logan, but he was very passionate and loving. The sensation was amazing, his mouth softly moving against hers and with just the right amount of tongue. She could’ve sworn he’d actually planned how to kiss her.

“Stop thinking so much,” Logan murmured, briefly running a thumb down her cheek before finding her lips again.

Jean realized he was right, and after that she just focused on enjoying his caresses. Maybe he  _ had _ planned everything; he seemed to be carefully building on each of his past moves, slowly warming her more and more under his attentive touch. Logan’s hands slid up her stomach under her cotton undershirt, eventually finding her breasts and gently kneading them. He was dry-humping her leg through his sweatpants, which only made Jean crave him more.

She wasn’t sure how, but her boyfriend already seemed to be an expert with his hands. Scott had always been gentle, but a little  _ too _ gentle if Jean was honest, like he thought she’d break. Logan struck exactly the right balance of passion and tenderness, his fingers and thumbs rubbing into her flesh sensually under her shirt.

Jean breathed his name as Logan kissed down the ridge of her jaw and buried his scruffy face in her neck, alternating between lightly sucking on her skin and teasing it with his almost-fangs. (You couldn’t tell by looking, but they were much harder and sharper than a normal human’s teeth.)

“Hmmm,” Logan growled, the sound vibrating against her throat and sending more tingles of pleasure through her. “Jeannie… taste so good.”

The sound of his metal claws extending reached her, and very suddenly she had no shirt. Jean revelled in the feel of Logan’s palms running smoothly down her back for a moment, then bent her head down to suck on his earlobe, causing him to suddenly moan and pull her closer.

“I like you this way,” she teased. “As soon as I touch your ears you just melt.”

“You’re my greatest weakness,” he agreed with a dizzy grin. He shed his wife beater and sweatpants somewhat clumsily, leaving just his boxers. Jean only got to admire Logan’s tough musculature for a moment before he rolled her onto her back and rested some of his weight on her. “But that ain’t such a bad thing, ’cause you’re mine.”

Logan pressed his face into her long red hair. He was bracing most of his weight on one arm while his other hand ran down Jean’s body, and she shuddered with anticipation as it slipped under the waistband of her pajama bottoms so his fingers could curl slowly into her pubic hairs. “God, Logan…” she gasped, unable to finish her thought as he teased her by slowly rubbing circles into her clit.

“Gotta be patient, Jeannie,” he murmured, his breath hot in her ear. He slipped the finger further down, into her, and then a second finger. “You’re so wet… ready for me. Gonna make you come so hard.”

She didn’t think it was possible, but somehow he’d turned her on more.

“How much longer do I have to wait?” Jean questioned once she’d gathered herself enough to talk again. She could already feel herself clenching around his fingers.

Logan answered by stripping off what little clothes they still had on and kissing her deeply for a long, heated moment. Their foreheads touched and her eyes locked with his, both of them groaning at the sensation of him pushing into her with a single steady movement. Thankfully he held still long enough for her to adjust to his girth, but that didn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around her in a crushing grip. He was so powerful, able to rip apart his enemies in seconds even without his claws, and it wasn’t lost on her that now he was using that same strength for a loving, pleasurable act.

Jean whimpered when Logan started to move - it hurt so good, making her dig her nails into his shoulders. He was so thick, stretching her with each motion until he worked into a good rhythm and pain blurred into mind-blowing ecstasy. Jean matched him with her hips each time he drove into her like a piston, pushing her face to Logan’s and swallowing his groans in a bruising kiss. Almost not realizing she was doing it, she let her mind reach for his. Beyond the basic pleasure and want, he was still surprised it was actually her beneath him, and even more that she was better than he’d imagined. Logan’s thoughts abruptly changed when he sensed her in his head, growling and sucking Jean’s bottom lip into his mouth. He knew she was so close…

...and of course made good on his promise. Logan shortened his thrusts, finding the little spot that would drive Jean up the wall and pushing over it with increasing speed until she was writhing and howling under his body. She spasmed around him as the rush of sensation flooded her, driving her boyfriend off the edge himself. Logan’s face crumpled into a snarl while he thrust unevenly, eventually collapsing onto Jean with his full weight and panting like an overworked animal.

“Thank you,” he murmured once he’d caught his breath, shifting them both so that he was curled protectively around her again.

“For what?”

“Choosing me.” Logan kissed her forehead and gently dragged his fingers through her long hair, which by now was hopelessly tangled. “Christ, I don’t remember feeling like this… well, ever. Don’t remember enough of myself to know if I had this before. I lived places, but not like this. And now I got you, and I got friends, and… and I never felt like I was really  _ home _ before, but I think this could be it.”

“Do you always get philosophical after sex?” Jean couldn’t help but ask, smiling.

“No,” he chuckled, snuggling against her. “I ain’t usually a thinking man if I can help it. Too much trouble.”

“Ah, so this is  _ special, _ just for me,” she joked, feeling another laugh roll around in his chest beside her ear.

Jean flinched in shock at the sudden pounding on the door, and Logan must have been really distracted by her because he also jumped. Fumbling around for a second, his hands slipped on the sheet and he crashed loudly to the floor.

“Logan, are you okay?” Ororo’s voice called from out in the hallway.

Jean watched him yank his sweatpants back on, not bothering with his boxers, and open the door a crack so that their friend couldn’t see into the room.

“You need something, Storm?”

“One of the students thought he heard screaming from your room, were you having nightmares? Are you alright?”

Logan coughed. “Uh, yeah, just nightmares,” he lied. “It’s fine, I’m awake now. Thanks.”

“Okay, then.”

He closed the door again, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed. Jean and Logan just looked at each other for a second before bursting into a fit of embarrassed laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so... I'm a guy, and I date other guys. I had to actually do some reading on "straight" sex before writing this. Blame any inaccuracies on that fact.


	3. Hiding Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I actually looked up the criteria for soulmate-identifying marks before writing this chapter, and the variations were so weird and interesting that I decided to use all of them instead of just one type.

_ Do you need something, Logan? _ Charles’ voice asked in his head before he had a chance to knock.

Pushing the door open to the study, Logan closed it behind him and folded his arms across his chest.

“How’s it going, Chuck?”

“I’ll be leaving to visit Erik soon,” the professor smiled, rolling out from behind his desk. “It’s quite unlike you to be so conversational, you must be feeling nervous.”

“I… yeah,” he admitted, shrugging. “Just wanted to ask about something.”

“You’re concerned in regards to your relationship with Dr. Grey.”

Logan snorted: “There any point in me talking? Seems like you already know everything I’m gonna say.”

“I’m not reading you,” Professor Xavier assured him. “You’re just very obvious with your feelings and opinions.”

He took a deep breath and sighed through his nose. “I wanna know about the whole soul-marking identity thing.”

“Ah, yes. An unusual phenomenon, isn’t it? No two are exactly alike, some people are born with them, others go their entire lives without ever receiving one. Some appear as the first words their significant other will say to them, others, like yourself, experience a change in sensory perception. I’ve even read about rare instances where it manifests as a countdown until they encounter their mate.”

“But they don’t ever go wrong, right?” Logan questioned, trying to stifle his apprehension.

“No. They’ve always proven correct.” If anything, Charles seemed to smile wider at him. “If I may ask, did you begin to see in color when you first met Jean, or more recently?”

“It happened when I woke up in medical. Right after that, the lines came up on her hands. So, wait, are they supposed to tell you who to be with, or what? Why does it happen at all? Why are they all so weird?”

“No one knows precisely. The most popular theory suggests that the soul has some form of existence that recognizes when it has found its pair, but this doesn’t account for those who are born with a soulmate identifying mark. Others believe your soul already knows where its mate lies and the mark is to signify your conscious mind when you’ve found them, but such a theory doesn’t lend itself to those whose marks count down for them, or people like you and Jean in that yours also correlate so strongly to your lives and personalities.”

“Okay, so they’re still looking for answers…”

“Yes. The fact of the matter remains that soul marks are the most unique and inexplicable phenomena ever encountered.”

“So then… if these stupid marks are always right, does that mean the two people just stay together after that?”

“Logan, Scott may not be your friend, and you may have difficulty tolerating each other at times, but I have no reason to believe he would interfere in your relationship, especially after the two of you came to an understanding and handled the situation graciously.”

“That ain’t it… when we’re close, I… last night, in my sleep, I could hear her thinking. ’Bout me. And how she was beating up on herself for getting with me so quick, when she took her time in her last relationship. And then this morning, after she went to check everything down in the infirmary, I got to thinking, too, and questioning  _ my _ self. Wondering if I got what it takes to make her happy. I wanted this chance, was all I thought about until I got back here from Alkali, but I don’t even know who I am. Shit, Chuck. Look at me, talking to you like this, tells me everything I need to know. Never would’a done this before.”

“In all the literature I’ve encountered on the subject, I can recount only five instances where the pairs were separated from each other under circumstances other than death. A young man suffered a traumatic blow to his frontal lobe so severe that his entire personality changed, and their marks disappeared because he was no longer the same man.”

“Well, sucks for them, but-”

“A woman went into a coma, and her soulmate eventually discovered a second mark. When she awoke several years later, she was able to accept that her wife had moved on, wishing only for her to be happy with her new love.”

“Okay, but-”

“A man received a life sentence in a maximum-security prison, and even though they were both still alive, he never saw his wife again.”

“Well-”

“A young man was drafted during the Second World War, and as he believed he would die, he ended his relationship. His sweetheart never found a second mark, but even though he returned, he had been severely disfigured in combat and never sought her out.”

“Chuck, I-”

“And the last one I know about, were two foolish people who also met at a young age. They had both been born with their identifying marks, and loved each other very much… but couldn’t agree on certain ideals. Eventually, they were forced to separate.”

After being interrupted five times, Logan was feeling very impatient, but a sudden realization struck him and he almost forgot what he’d originally been trying to say. His eyebrows came together as the truth dawned on him.

“That last one was you, right?”

“Yes.” Charles’ smile had become slightly sad, but was otherwise wistful. “Do you understand the significance of these two letters?”

The professor rolled up one of his sleeves briefly so show  **Fe** on the underside of his arm, and Logan shook his head, not getting the point.

“Don’t look like a name or anything to me.”

“It’s the atomic symbol for the element iron, which is the most common basis of magnetism. And it’s on the same area of my body where Erik’s skin was marked during his imprisonment in Poland.”

“Well… shit, Chuck. I really am sorry about that,” Logan grimaced, and he meant it. Then he shook his head. “But what I was trying to get at is-”

“Stop doubting yourself,” the professor cut in, letting his sleeve fall back down to his wrist. “It is firmly within your capacity to have a comfortable and happy partnership with Jean for as long as you wish. You may not know who you  _ were, _ and may still be feeling uncertain of who you are  _ now. _ But whether you like it or not, you’re a good man, and she knows that.”

Logan inclined his head slightly, glancing down at his feet. Eventually he smirked.

“Alright, then. Thanks. And, uh… don’t go spreading that around, it’ll hurt my rep.”

 

Logan wasn’t sure why, but the students always made Scott buy them about a hundred pizzas on Sunday night. By now the nearby Domino’s had figured out the pattern and was usually ready to fill their absurdly huge order, so he didn’t feel bad about contributing to the hassle; when Storm had asked if he wanted one, too, he decided on an extra-large with virtually every meat known to man and extra cheese.

Scott, of course, was standing in the kitchen area on the phone and reading off the list when Logan came in and rooted around in the back of the fridge for a beer. None of the kids dared touch his alcohol; they might have been annoying, but they weren’t dumb enough to steal from him. Making a face and rolling his eyes, Logan pulled out two bottles of Molson and shut the refrigerator.

“Alright, thanks.” Scott hung up the phone and Logan turned to his former rival, holding out one of the bottles almost like a peace offering. Scott raised an eyebrow behind his sunglasses. “Uh… thanks.”

“Sure,” Logan muttered, cracking his open and taking a long pull. He leaned back against the counter.

“So are you-”

“Don’t talk. Just drink,” he grunted before another sip.

They stood in silence for a while, beers in their hands and not really looking in each other’s direction. Logan still felt like he owed something to Scott, even though they would probably still butt heads until the end of time.

“Can I just ask something?” Of course Scott needed to ask something. “Why you?”

Logan shrugged heavily, finishing his beer and tossing the bottle into the garbage.

“No idea. Didn’t change my behavior or anything,” he grunted before leaving the room.

Once the pizzas arrived, Logan found his and left with it, but not before grabbing a piece that had mushrooms, olives and green peppers on it for Jean. He predictably found her in the infirmary, typing furiously into her computer. Even though he wasn’t trying to sneak up on her, she was so focused on her task that he startled her anyway.

“Food?” Logan offered, indicating the slice that had all the vegetables on it.

“Oh, thanks,” Jean nodded, scooping it up. “I didn’t know it was dinner time.”

“What’re you writing?”

“A paper for a medical journal. I have to send them one every so often about the kids’ cases, but at least they’re allowed to stay anonymous because they’re minors.”

“But that means people’re paying attention to what you got to say, right?”

“Maybe,” Jean sighed. She took a bite before continuing. “Unfortunately, the politicians who keep trying to screw us over aren’t part of the medical community, and they’re the ones who need to read it.”

Logan pulled a chair up to her desk, making what he hoped was a sympathetic enough expression.

“Sounds like a pain in the ass.”

“It can be,” she agreed. “Working at a school instead of an office or a hospital can be easier sometimes, except that I also have to teach five mornings a week. The afternoons are planning the next day’s class, so I only have two days to take care of all the crap like this.”

“Thought you’re trying to be less perfect,” Logan commented around his food.

Jean offered him a tired smile. “Perfect or not, I still have to submit these to journals on time.”

“Is it just about kids’ powers?”

“That’s part of it, but it’s also a lot of my work in genetics.” She’d finished her slice of pizza, so she reached out and stole one of his. He didn’t mind. “I have to get back to work… thanks for bringing me something to eat.”

“Mm-hm,” he nodded, planting a kiss on her cheek before leaving.

Logan went outside with his food, knowing he could finish his pizza without getting potentially pestered by students. His metabolism was so high that he needed at least 7,000 calories a day, so it wasn’t difficult for him to eat the entire thing in one sitting.

As he was lighting a cigar, the footsteps crunching across the snow reached his ears.

“Hey, kid,” he grunted without looking.

“Hey, Logan,” Rogue returned the greeting. She came to a stop a few feet away.

“You out here to avoid everyone, too?”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s just nice to go outside right now. I can leave the house without feeling like a freak because of all my clothes.”

“Well…” Logan muttered, not really sure how to respond for a moment. Then he smirked, letting his claws slide out of his knuckles. “There. Now we’re freaks together.”

He took another drag on his cigar while Rogue offered him an appreciative smile. A light breeze swished over them, ruffling his thick black hair and causing her to tuck her hands under her arms from the cold. Logan also stiffened, but not for that reason; he could smell that something was off. Motioning silently for her to stay still, he flicked his cigar into the snow and took a deeper sniff. It tickled his brain, disturbingly similar to his own scent, but somehow even more vicious and feral.

Balling his hands into fists, Logan remembered his claws were already extended and began cautiously moving towards the hostile smell. He knew it from somewhere, but just couldn’t grab it…

As he was reaching the trees, an ear-splitting roar issued and Sabertooth lunged forward with his talons outstretched. Wolverine was slammed heavily into the snow, thrashing under his opponent until his right claws rammed up through the other mutant’s ribs. He bucked powerfully to throw Sabertooth off, then immediately sprang to his feet and buried his adamantium blades into flesh up to his knuckles.

“The fuck you doing here?” Wolverine snarled through a clenched jaw. “Didn’t get enough of me beating your ass last time?”

Sabertooth bared his spiky fangs in a hideous smile: “It just took me this long to find you, Jimmy. It was kinda weird seeing you working with those geeks, but I thought it was just a fluke until now. You’re getting soft… no wonder, though. You found some new pussy for yourself, she’s all over your clothes.”

Wolverine just glared harder, twisting his left claws simply for the sake of causing pain to the hostile mutant. “You got no reason to be looking for me, who sent you?”

“Nobody,” Sabertooth sneered in an almost identical expression. Looking for this long, he could see even more frightening similarities - their noses and ears were alike, their foreheads sloped the same. Even if it was a bit straighter, Wolverine’s hair and stubble matched up in terms of color. “He really did scrub your brain, didn’t he? You have no idea who I am.”

“Go to hell,” Wolverine hissed, his uneasiness about this encounter simply blending into more rage. He twisted the claws on both hands, drawing an agonized groan that turned into an infuriating laugh. “You think I’m funny, bub? I’ll rip out your guts and choke you with them.”

“Don’t play this game with me, Jimmy. We’ve been here before and you couldn’t do it then, you won’t do it now.”

“Stop calling me that!” Wolverine bellowed, ripping out his left claws and plunging them into Sabertooth’s flank. He didn’t know why the nickname sounded so familiar, but it bothered him all the same.

“You don’t even remember your real name,” the hostile mutant jeered, grimacing in pain for a second before hiding it again. “Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy… you’re so disappointing. I always knew I was the stronger one, but your weak mind is fucking pathetic, even for you.”

“Who are you?” Wolverine demanded, pushing his metal blades in deeper with all his strength.

“Logan!” a voice shouted behind him.

He was only distracted for a split instant, but it was long enough. Sabertooth’s fist rammed into his sternum and sent him sprawling backwards into the snow, but was thrown away from Wolverine mid-leap by a searing red line. Twisting his head, he saw that Rogue had run for help - Ororo was rising into the air and Scott was sprinting closer. As he started getting to his feet, a ridiculously strong blast of wind picked up Sabertooth and flung him out towards the horizon until he eventually disappeared from view.

“Logan, hey, what happened?” Scott asked, reaching out.

He whipped around, teeth bared and claws extended, ready to fight until he got a grip and became himself again. Logan realized his surroundings and forced down the rage, letting his claws slip back up into his forearms with some reluctance.

“Don’t know. He just sorta showed up from the woods.” Logan wiped blood off his face, not knowing if it was his or Sabertooth’s. “He thinks he knows who I am, said he’d been looking for me. Called me by a different name.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Ororo questioned, looking slightly worried as she joined them.

“Uh… yeah.” Logan put on a brave face; they didn’t need to know how shaken he really was after the things he’d heard. “Y’know, got the healing factor and all that. Bastard made me waste half a cigar, though.”

Not wanting them to ask him anything else, he turned and headed across the lawn to go back inside. He needed to process this attack on his own, and preferably with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Unknown to Logan, who was too wrapped up in his own thoughts, the entire fight had been witnessed by a third enemy presence. They’d tracked Sabertooth on his hunt, and used the path to find and reconnoiter the Xavier mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My incarnation of Sabertooth is the Liev Schreiber version from *Origins.* I bet I'm the only person on earth who actually likes that movie. Don't look at me like that. Screw you, Liev Schreiber is awesome in that movie.


	4. The Disturbance

Even though she had been essentially sitting still, Jean still felt exhausted after typing up her case study. It always seemed to take longer than it should for her to finish one of those damn things, and when she looked at a nearby clock she was surprised that it was _only_ 8:30 at night.

Sighing and rubbing her face, Jean pushed away from her computer and nearly had to peel herself out of her desk chair before leaving the infirmary. She could feel that Logan was in his room, probably pacing around and waiting for her. Instead, when she opened the door, she found him sitting slumped with his back against the wall and an empty liquor bottle in his fist. Given that it was incredibly hard to poison Logan, Jean didn’t see the point in him drinking at all. Maybe it was the principal behind the action that he found important.

“Hey,” she addressed him quietly, crouching at his side and resting a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Sabertooth hunted me here,” he grunted, limply gesturing with his free hand to the holes in his shirt. “He talked to me like he knew me… he kind of looks like me, too. Smells like me. They must’a done something… he is me…”

“No,” she insisted, her voice compassionate but firm. She lifted his face in her hands. “We’ve been dealing with him for years before we found you, Logan. You’re _nothing_ like Sabertooth.”

“But he _knows me,_ ” Logan ground out, his jaw clenched in frustration and torment. “Or seems like he does. I think he was made to be like me… but cruel. Or more cruel, anyway.”

“You’re not-”

“I am,” he cut Jean off. “Held him down and fucking tortured him, trying to figure out what he was up to.”

“Do you think he’d be crying over it if he did the same thing to you?” she pointed out. She put her arms around her boyfriend to pull him closer and he leaned heavily against her, looking defeated and overwhelmed. “It’s possible that whoever experimented on you created Sabertooth with a sample of your DNA, but I don’t think that’s what happened. He seems too experienced for the amount of time that’s passed since your memory was erased, and even a clone would have to grow into adulthood.”

“He could smell you on me,” Logan muttered, his voice muffled by her shirt. “He might go after you to get me… fuck…”

“I can defend myself,” Jean reminded him. “Besides, you’re always nearby. I think we can handle him between the two of us.”

She felt him smirk at that, finally reaching around to hug back. This close together there was no way for her not to detect his emotions and thoughts, and the feeling of his angst draining was almost a physical sensation for her. As she brushed down his hair with her hand, she felt him start to relax a little.

“Actually, I like it when my clothes smell like you,” Logan murmured, pressing his face into her neck. Jean chuckled. “You always smell like clean and flowery things.”

“It’s just body wash,” she smiled, still rubbing her fingers along the back of his head. “I can start making you use it so you’ll smell like me.”

“Yeah, that won’t draw unwanted attention at all,” he snorted. “It’s okay, I’ll just have you sleep in my shirts and wear them the next day.”

Logan stood up, pulling Jean to her feet with him. She was grateful for that actually; her legs had started to cramp from crouching down for so long. They sat on the edge of his bed and she felt his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

“Just makes me more glad you’re here, Jeannie,” he murmured. “Otherwise I’d just have the same stupid thoughts bouncing around in my head until I went on a bender to drown them out.”

“Do you want me to drown them out for you?” she asked, reaching up to run a finger along his rough jaw.

“Oh yeah,” he agreed, grinning and letting her push him back onto the mattress.

 

Something had changed, and it bothered him.

Logan wasn’t sure what it was. He didn’t know if the difference was in Jean, or himself, or the school, or what. He just couldn’t place it, and that only irked him more. It made his claws itch, it kept him from sleeping.

At least Xavier had given him something to do that would keep his hands busy. In the eight days since Sabertooth had showed up right on their front door, he’d been tasked with setting up various traps and alarms that would at least slow down intruders long enough for them to defend themselves adequately. Actually, it wasn’t even that bad of a job. Logan spent most of the day poking along in the woods around the school, taking mental notes on weak points and the areas that would be perfect for tripwires. He got to be alone in the cold air doing something he was good at, sometimes taking a break to chase down small mammals if the opportunity presented itself.

Logan checked the air every so often as he paced between the trees, but there wasn’t anything unusual out here, either. He bristled. It wouldn’t leave him alone, like a splinter too deep to dig up. Of course, a splinter could be cut out of his flesh, and if he had one, he’d know where it was on his body. This was more elusive; an honest-to-God needle in a haystack would be a thousand times easier to locate it seemed.

Occupying his rough fingers with another weatherproof motion detector that looked exactly like a knot on the tree, Logan kept turning over possibilities in his head, but the problem was that none of them worked. The snow was going away as spring approached, which could make him feel different due to the seasons, but it had never happened to him before. His relationship with Jean was still really new, but nothing seemed to have changed yet and they hadn’t even had their first fight over some trivial thing. There hadn’t been anything in the news and Xavier hadn’t mentioned noticing any recent disturbances, so it was unlikely to be a recruiting issue. And he hadn’t seen hide or hair of Sabertooth since their previous conflict.

 _Go away, whatever you are,_ Logan thought to his own mind, even knowing it was pointless. His brain would never leave him alone. _Don’t make me put my head through a wall._

Taking another deep sniff to ensure he was truly alone, he bit down on the end of a cigar and lit it. As he took a drag, an emotion that didn’t belong to him rose up - impatience. Not that Logan wasn’t impatient all the time and with everything, but this wasn’t specifically _his_ impatience. He was confused by it for a moment before he remembered that whenever Jean got close enough he could feel her in his head; it had started happening sometime during the past week and he didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

“Jean?” he called out, glancing around and trying to look through the trees. After he took a few steps forward, she appeared, clomping through the snow in her boots. He smirked at that, but truthfully there wasn’t anything she could wear that would stop her from looking incredibly sexy to him. “Something happening?”

“Three days ago you _insisted_ on guarding me for a doctor’s appointment,” she teased.

“Oh, yeah. So wait, tell me again why you have to go see some other doctor? You _are_ a doctor, couldn’t you just run tests on yourself or something?”

Jean sighed at him as he began following her out of the woods towards the garage. “Because I’m a geneticist, for one thing. For another thing, everyone except you needs to get checked up on regularly. And for a third thing, I can handle Sabertooth if I need to, so I don’t see the point of you sitting in the waiting room for an hour. You’ll be very bored.”

“I ain’t taking that chance,” Logan grunted stubbornly. “Bastard thinks he knows me, he’ll probably follow me even if I tried to hide in Hell. I won’t let him hurt you, ever.”

They climbed into the Jeep that had been acquired for him two days ago (mainly so that he’d stop stealing Scott’s motorcycle, which he knew he’d keep doing anyway) and Logan started driving without putting on the safety belt.

“I know you’ll recover if you go flying through the windshield, but you’ll still have to pay for the car to be fixed after,” Jean pointed out.

“Rogue pestered me about the same thing when I met her,” Logan snorted, but gave in and strapped the annoying thing across his body.

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure she said that exact scenario happened,” his girlfriend replied in a dry tone.

“Hey, I’m wearing the damn thing,” he grumbled, pointing.

“Thank you,” Jean smiled, reaching over. He smirked and accepted her hand while he drove with the other one. “I know you heal from everything, but that doesn’t mean I like watching you get hurt.”

“Fair enough,” Logan ceded, nodding. He ran his thumb across the lines. “Not complaining at all, but… do you know why it’s me?”

“I asked the professor the same question, actually. He said that sometimes the reasons are very obvious, but not always. And that even if it’s not clear now, it will be.”

“That’s pretty vague,” he complained.

“There’s no exact science involved with soul marks.” She gently squeezed his hand. “I guess we’ll just find out when we find out.”

“Speaking of finding things out, something’s been up lately. Don’t know what it is, but it’s been bothering me for a couple days, now. Any guesses?”

“Is it because of Sabertooth?”

“Not really, I ain’t gonna get caught with my pants down again when it comes to him. Anything going on with you I should know about? I mean, you’re going to see a doctor…”

“For the last time, Logan. It’s a routine checkup.”

“Still, though. What if they find something wrong with you?”

“They won’t,” Jean assured him.

“But what if they do?” he persisted.

“They’ll take care of anything that could be even a slight problem. Besides, unlike _some_ certain mutants I know, I have a very healthy lifestyle.”

“Hey, I’ve been binge-drinking and chain-smoking for… however many years now, and I ain’t dead yet,” Logan chuckled.

Unfortunately, she’d been right; once they actually got there, he did end up sitting and waiting for more than an hour. Granted, that was a good thing, because he didn’t want Sabertooth going after his girlfriend, but it didn’t stop him from being bored out of his mind. It also meant he got to think about nothing other than whatever the disturbance was that he’d picked up on, and that only made the wait longer.

Logan practically jumped her once she emerged: “So what did they say? Did they find anything?”

Jean rolled her eyes. “Before you explode, no, they didn’t see anything wrong with me. There was a slight abnormality with one of my labs and I have to come back next week for a follow-up, but don’t even say it,” she cut him off as soon as he opened his mouth, “this has happened before and nothing came of it. They can process labs in minutes, but it’s not always the most accurate. Now _relax,_ before all the blood vessels in your eyes pop.”

That was certainly a gruesome image in his mind, but he pushed it away. “So what abnormality are we talking about, here?”

“It’s just the machine making an error,” she insisted. “It happens all the time, and like I already said, they’ve never showed anything before.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter, but there's a little bit of a time-skip between this one and the next one, which is why.


	5. One Percent

Logan woke up late that morning, rolling onto his back to stretch and realizing that Jean had left to go teach; her appointment wasn’t until the afternoon. Actually he was surprised - he didn’t think he’d ever slept this well, and didn’t remember dreaming anything at all.

Once he’d changed from his sweats into clean jeans and a flannel, Logan started to feel more lucid. The undetectable problem suddenly flooded his senses again, a hundred times stronger than it had been the week before or even yesterday, and it finally made itself known. Jean had been in the room recently enough that her scent was fresh, and something about it was different this time. Not that she was necessarily sick, only a little _off_. But it still worried him. The predator in his brain responded fiercely to the change, screaming for him to **_ACT ACT ACT_ ** in some way, but he didn’t understand why or what it meant.

Apprehension seeped through him. To distract himself he went outside to inspect the traps again, but it only made him feel more like Wolverine and less like Logan. He found himself stalking through the trees as if hunting prey, tasting the air routinely with the tips of the adamantium blades poking just past the ends of his knuckles. Then he sprang up from the ground, claws fully extended and knocking Sabertooth out of the branches.

“My friends ain’t here to save you this time,” Wolverine spat. “Let’s play!”

The two muscular animals crashed headlong into each other, talons and claws finding enemy flesh to draw roars of pain and spray blood across the snow. Sabertooth threw him backwards into a tree, but Wolverine got to his feet quickly enough to rake his blades across the other mutant’s face and neck. He kicked Sabertooth’s thick legs out from under him only to be pulled to the ground, hooked talons tearing through his pants and sinking into his calf. His enemy’s other sharp digits stabbed down into the base of his neck around his collarbone, drawing a bestial scream of agony and boiling rage.

Sabertooth offered a nasty grin of jagged fangs: “Maybe your little friends should be here to save _you,_ ” he taunted, digging deeper into his flesh. “I already said this, Jimmy, but you’ve gotten soft.”

Wolverine heaved with all his might and rolled, pinning Sabertooth under him and tearing open his opponent’s throat with his metal claws. Gashes were ripped in his body as he wrenched free of the talons, but he only had two seconds of respite before Sabertooth lunged for him again, neck already almost healed.

“Will you fucking DIE!” Wolverine bellowed, ramming both sets of blades into the hostile mutant’s abdomen and wrenching downward in an effort at disemboweling him. “I don’t know why you’re after me, but God dammit, you got it! I’m here, you’re here, and I’m really pissed off! Happy?” He yanked his claws free only to stab them in again. “I don’t even know you, but since you ain’t gonna fuck off on your own, I’ll just have to help you out with that!”

Sabertooth staggered back, his arms around his belly and drooling in long red strings through his fangs. There was enough blood in the snow to fill a small pond. Somehow, though, he still managed that insufferable grin. “You can’t treat me like this,” he wheezed, still looking dangerous in spite of his grievous wounds.

“Why the fuck not?” Wolverine demanded, bending his knees into an attack stance.

“Oh c’mon, Jimmy, you can’t not recognize me,” Sabertooth sneered, obviously starting to recover and coiling up to fight again. “You got eyes, you got a nose. Surely I’m a _little_ familiar…”

“I knew it,” Wolverine snarled, unsure why they hadn’t engaged each other by now. “They fucking hijacked my blood or something, grew you out of me…”

Now, his enemy laughed. It was a hideous sound. “ _Grew_ me out of _you?_ You give yourself too much credit. You’re my little brother, Jimmy. Never forget it! Never forget how you’re tied to me!” Sabertooth cackled.

“NO!” Wolverine howled, rushing forward again. He felt the talons slash open his chest and face, momentarily putting out one of his eyes, but he held firm. His left claws were buried in the center of Sabertooth’s rib cage while his right claws plunged into the joint between the other mutant’s skull and vertebrae. “Fuck you and your fucking lies, you ain’t gonna lie to anyone else after this…! _Fuck you!_ ”

Wolverine roared those same two words endlessly, repeatedly stabbing his enemy in the chest until long after Sabertooth had gone still. Those vicious, light-colored eyes were glazed and the pool of dark blood was still slowly spreading, soaking through the knees of his ragged pants. After a moment he stood on shaking legs, breaths heaving, and slowly turned to leave the woods. He didn’t know what he’d do about the body, but right then he didn’t care, either.

Logan found himself in the infirmary, not remembering the walk down there, but he was okay with it because the place was empty. Sitting at Jean’s desk without bothering to wipe the blood off himself or even retract his blades, he covered his face with his hands and let out a shuddering breath.

It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t, he refused to believe it. He couldn’t be flesh-and-blood kin with that monster, the one who’d attacked him in Canada all those months ago and later threatened the woman he loved. But even as he tried to deny it, the other part of his mind knew that his senses never lied. The scent, the way he moved, some of the facial features, the undercurrent of anger and cruelty - everything was indicative that Sabertooth was closely related to Logan.

Either he’d lost track of his thoughts or the fight had taken longer than it had seemed at the time, because when he became aware of his surroundings again it was when Jean’s hand was resting on top of his shoulder.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” she guessed.

“Yeah,” Logan whispered, finally letting his claws slide back into his wrists. “He’s dead now.”

Jean nodded slowly. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, slouching heavily. “Before I killed him, he said… that I’m his brother.”

She was silent, squeezing his arm gently before disappearing and returning with a washcloth. He sat still and gave no protest as she wiped away the blood that was caked onto his skin, not talking and only caring for him. It was a little soothing, but not enough. Once he was clean, Jean set the cloth aside and pulled him to his feet for a hug. Logan closed his eyes and pressed his face into her hair, wanting to get lost in her sweet scent and forget the whole world.

The tactic worked - he forgot about Sabertooth almost immediately. But only because he was reminded of the fact that she was _off_ somehow. Flinching as the strangeness hit his nose, Logan pulled away slightly so that his eyes could find hers. After giving in to the animal and going berserk on Sabertooth, that bestial part of him was still just under the surface, and finally the warning it was sending him made sense. His breath hitched in his chest as he fought panic.

“Jeannie, have you re-done your labs yet?”

“Yes,” she nodded. The truth made her eyes flash with a similar emotion, though he sensed it wasn’t for the same reasons.

“What did they say?” Logan whispered even though he knew exactly what her answer was going to be.

She closed her eyes for a long moment and he watched her swallow as she gathered herself. “I’m pregnant.”

 

It wasn’t late enough to go to sleep yet, but they were lying on his bed anyway. Jean was almost curled into a ball and Logan was spooned around her from behind, his face pressed into the back of his neck and his arms wrapping her.

“You never think it’ll happen to you,” he was murmuring, his voice thick with anxiety. “I mean, you hear about it on commercials for the shit, that it’s only ninety-nine percent… and you never think that one percent is gonna be you.”

“I know,” Jean agreed, threading her fingers into his. “I’m sorry, Logan.”

“Why?” he asked, surprising her a little. “There was two of us involved… Christ, Jeannie, you don’t gotta apologize to me. It ain’t your fault. I just, I don’t know, I never thought I’m the one percent. Never have been before now.”

“Are you scared?” she asked quietly.

“Yes.” She felt ashamed of herself for being surprised at his honesty. “Don’t think I ever got this scared ’bout anything before.”

“Me, too.” Jean took a deep breath; he deserved the truth. “But not for the same reasons you are. A couple of years before you joined us, there was… a similar incident. With me and Scott. I hadn’t gone on hormonal birth control yet because I didn’t want to deal with the side effects. One time he was wearing a condom and it broke, and we had been together for a while until then so we thought we’d be okay having a baby.”

“So what happened?” Logan hugged her closer.

“After a couple of weeks I took a test and it read positive, so we started planning. But after two and a half months I miscarried… it’s the worst thing I ever felt.” She swallowed tears at the memory and felt her muscles start shaking. “I was in the shower getting ready for work, and suddenly there was blood running down my legs. It was so awful…” Beads of moisture started to escape from the corners of her eyes, and Logan kissed her neck, trying to comfort her. “I couldn’t teach after that, and I just stayed in the suite almost until the next school year. Charles was very kind to us about it, and he said we could have as much time as we needed… Scott started working again after a couple of months, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t be around so many children. If I even saw a student in the hall, I would start crying…”

Jean’s voice cracked and she stopped talking, wiping her cheeks on the back of her hand. Logan gently rolled her onto her other side so that she could bury her face in his plaid shirt, rubbing a hand down her back and nuzzling her long hair.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured. She could feel that it hurt him because she’d been in pain. “I kinda wondered actually, why you didn’t have kids with Slim even though you’re great with them… uh… fuck. I’m sorry, Jeannie. I suck with words.”

“It’s okay,” she mumbled. “I just can’t help remembering how it happened last time. I did everything I was supposed to do, but I lost the baby anyway, and I couldn’t help but think I should’ve done better because I’m a doctor. I know I shouldn’t think things like that, but I still do sometimes.”

Logan’s arms and legs wrapped her up into a cocoon, making her feel warm and safe even though her worries wouldn’t dissolve.

“You don’t gotta be scared,” he assured her. “Know why? Anything that’s part of me is fucking indestructible.” Jean laughed a little through her tears in spite of herself. “Besides, _I’m_ the one who ain’t good enough. Don’t know if I can do a good enough job protecting you, even without Sabertooth… something happened, I don’t remember what, but there was someone else I tried to help and I just… I just failed. And they died because I couldn’t help them enough. Fuck, I can’t let that happen again.”

They were quiet for a very long time, and Jean almost thought Logan had fallen asleep until he spoke again.

“So… you scared to be a parent, too?”

She sighed against his chest. “I don’t know. Maybe. Mostly I just don’t want a repeat of last time. What about you?”

“A little. But it is what it is, and I ain’t got a way to change it. Besides, I’m only happy if you’re happy, and if being a mom makes you happy, then it works for me. Never really thought about having kids before. Maybe I did before my brain got wiped, but never after that. Guess I should start thinking about it now, huh?”

Jean smiled a little. “Probably. I’ll try to find you some things to read so you can be a little more prepared.”

“So should I bring it up? You shouldn’t go on missions, now…”

“We can talk to the professor tomorrow, but I don’t want to tell everyone yet. I don’t even believe in superstitions and I’m still afraid to jinx it.”

“Okay.” Logan kissed the top of her head. “This was already true, but if you need anything, ever, I’ll do it. No questions asked.”

“Thanks.” Jean tilted her head up from his chest to kiss him. “I’ll be upfront with you, though, you can’t smoke, drink or swear around the baby.”

“Uh… okay, anything but that.” She gave him a look and he sighed. “Fine. I won’t be myself around the baby,” Logan joked, and despite everything she laughed.

 

Logan was out in the woods checking his traps and cameras when Scott suddenly came to find him.

“Problem, Boy Scout?”

“The professor wants us all to meet him.”

He frowned, snapping the batteries into a camouflaged electronic tripwire and setting it on the ground before following the other man out of the trees. “What happened?”

“There was an attack on the president that was carried out by a mutant,” Scott replied, grimacing behind his shades.

“Well, that’s fucking helpful,” Logan grunted sarcastically. “Always gotta be something with those damn politicians. Hell, I bet they staged the whole thing as an excuse to go after us.”

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like Magneto,” the other mutant warned.

“Yeah, well, sometimes Magneto’s right,” he grumbled. “Would you wanna raise kids with shit going on the way it is now?”

The words slipped out of his mouth, and he didn’t realize it until they’d already been said. Scott stopped dead in his tracks, and Logan also paused, not turning around. He started mentally kicking himself.

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me, Logan?” Scott demanded, anger and pain rising in his voice.

“No,” he answered honestly. Reluctantly, he turned in his spot so that they were facing each other. “Didn’t mean it like that…”

“I knew she’d tell you about what happened with that, but this is low even for you.”

It felt odd for him to be the calm one for once in a conflict between the two of them. He slowly raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. “Scott, listen to me. I swear I didn’t mean it like that. And yeah, she did tell me about it. I’m sorry it happened. Look… I wasn’t thinking about what I was saying, and I’m not supposed to talk to anyone about this yet, but I know you won’t believe me otherwise.”

“Yeah, get on with it!”

“Jean’s pregnant,” Logan almost whispered. “Found out yesterday… fuck, I could smell something weird going on for days before that. Fuck.”

“Oh,” was all Scott said.

“Sorry you found out like this, Slim.” He meant it. “It was an accident.”

They started walking again, very slowly. The snow was mostly melted and the ground was wet, squishing under their feet and covering their shoes with mud and blades of dead grass.

“So that was fast,” Scott commented, sounding like he didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah,” Logan agreed. He didn’t know what compelled him to go into further detail, but it seemed like he had to, now. “Told her that anything with my blood in it’s hard to take down, but I know she’s still worried. I’m kinda worried. Don’t want her to go through it again.”

“When it happened to us,” Scott replied quietly, “all I could do was watch. I couldn’t fix it, nothing I did would be the right thing. So I didn’t say anything about it unless I had to. You make peace with the fact that it happened after a while, but you never really get over it. You’ll always know it happened and you couldn’t stop it. I hope it doesn’t happen to her again. But if it does… all you can do is hold her and let her cry. There aren’t any right words, and nothing you do can make her feel better. You just hold onto her when she’s crying.”

They both let the ominous words hang between them as they entered the school, knowing that nobody else should hear about it. After everything Scott had told him, Logan felt like a boulder had grown in the pit of his stomach. When he came into the room with the others, he didn’t realize he was squeezing Jean’s hand so hard until she asked if he was trying to give her a crush fracture. The entire conversation about the mutant attack went in one of his ears and right back out the other, and once it was over Jean pulled him aside before she went back to her students.

“Are you feeling alright? Is this about Sabertooth?”

“No,” Logan shook his head. Actually, with everything he’d learned from her yesterday, he’d almost completely forgotten about Sabertooth already. “Jeannie I’m sorry, I accidentally told Scott, and then we talked about it a little. I feel sick just thinking about it, I don’t want it to happen to you again.”

She sighed, pulling him into an embrace. “That’s okay. I was probably going to tell him about it soon, anyway. Were you at least nice about it?”

“I did my best,” Logan nodded. “He wasn’t mad at me or anything, like I said, we talked about it a little. He said there’s nothing I can do if it happens. I hate that, there ain’t a God damn thing I can do.”

Jean squeezed his hands in hers. They didn’t keep talking after that - their expressions said it all.


	6. Everything

Sleep wouldn’t find him that night. Scott and Ororo had left to look for the mutant who’d attacked the president and Professor Xavier went on his monthly visit to Erik’s cell, so Logan and Jean were the only two adults in the entire school. He wasn’t sure how she’d manage to drift off, but right now he was jealous. Even his post-trauma nightmares would be better than lying awake and worrying while he stared up at the ceiling.

 _I ain’t ready for this,_ Logan thought. _Can’t believe I got Jeannie knocked up right when we got together… should’a just kept my hands to my-fucking-self. What am I gonna do? Don’t even like kids. How can I be a dad when I don’t like kids? Hell, I don’t even_ remember _my dad… Shit. Too late now, bub. You don’t got a choice, so man up._

The animal in the back of his mind was still telling Logan the same thing it’d said when he’d figured it out - his mate was with young, he had to guard her and hunt meat for her. It was a very basic instinct: take care of the pack.

 _Shut up over there,_ he thought.

 **_You shut up,_ ** Wolverine snapped back. **_Take care of your mate. There will be cubs soon to take care of, too._ **

_Oh, fuck off. Sick of dealing with you. You don’t know anything._

**_Take care of the cubs. Take care of the pack._ **

_There ain’t no pack, and it’s just one cub,_ Logan argued with himself. _Maybe not even that if things go to shit for her again. Fuck, I ain’t ready, but I don’t know what I’ll do if she loses it… can’t let anything hurt her, not even her own body. Christ. Got months before it comes, maybe I’ll be ready then. But, God. I can’t let it happen to her again._

Sighing quietly through his nose at the ridiculous conversation he’d just had in his head, Logan rolled onto his side and spooned himself around Jean. He slipped an arm around her to rest his palm on her stomach, which she’d told him wouldn’t show anything for a while yet, as if he thought he could feel the life growing within her body. It was only a tiny ball of cells right now, but someday it would be born and probably have his claws. The thought of a fragile and defenseless organism relying entirely on him for its comfort and safety was beyond terrifying.

Logan wondered if Jean could detect it developing inside of her, how it felt to know she was growing another being with herself serving as the incubator. He didn’t think it would hurt her any, or at least it wasn’t yet, but maybe it was uncomfortable as the baby grew and expanded so fast. Was it a boy or a girl? He’d heard of people finding out long before the actual birth, but he wasn’t sure how that worked. Maybe the mother could just sense it, somehow.

Honestly, Logan was so afraid of becoming a parent and so worried that Jean would miscarry again that at the present moment he didn’t really care which set of junk the baby ended up having. That simple wolf instinct - **_protect and feed the young_ ** \- was actually working in his favor more than he realized. It didn’t matter so much _what_ the baby ended up being born as, which of their powers it inherited, as long as Jean didn’t have to go through that horrible experience again.

 _Sick of this,_ Logan thought to himself, carefully pulling away from his girlfriend and crawling out of bed. He knew he wouldn’t sleep at all tonight no matter what he did, so he threw on the jeans he’d worn earlier and closed the door silently behind him. Counting on his fingers as he walked, he calculated in his head. _December. It’ll be born in December. Fuck, that’s a long time._

After passing one of the school’s youngest students in the TV room, Logan found Bobby Drake sitting in the kitchen area.

“Doesn’t anyone sleep around here?” he grunted cynically.

“Apparently not,” Bobby shrugged.

Logan dug around in the back of the fridge and was annoyed to realize he’d forgotten to buy beer. “Got anything that’s not chocolate milk?”

“There should be some soda in the small cupboard.”

Bobby chilled the soda for him and he sat down: “So you and Rogue, huh?”

“Yeah… I mean, it’s not what you think it is, I’d like it to be, but…” the young mutant made a frustrated expression for a moment. “It’s hard when you want to be closer to someone, but you can’t.” Then he shrugged. “I mean, I saw how you looked at Dr. Grey for a while after you got here, but she’s with you now, so… maybe someday Rogue will be able to control it. It just sucks, because I know she wants to just hold my hand like a normal person. It’s such a little thing, but it’s huge when everyone around you can do it and you can’t.”

Logan nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, that’s-” He was interrupted by a sudden beeping from his right wrist. Below his watch was another band that looked similar, but it was actually the monitor for his traps, and for some reason they all seemed to be going off at once. His eyebrows drew together. “Hey, go get Jean and gather all the kids up and hide somewhere. Someone’s here and they ain’t friendly.”

He was glad that Bobby didn’t argue and just nodded without saying a word. Of all nights, why this one? With Scott and Ororo in Boston it was just him that was actually able to fight right now, and he certainly wasn’t going to ask his pregnant girlfriend for help.

Growling low in his chest, Wolverine snuck into the forest with his claws ready. After this he was just going to surround the school with fucking claymores, he decided. He could smell them and knew they were trained soldiers even before he actually saw one - the leather and rubber of combat boots, gunpowder. It rang in his mind and he knew he’d encountered these smells many times in the past, but for the life of him the memories wouldn’t surface.

The first two troopers he came across were already incapacitated, hanging from trees by their ankles with the same metal tethers used to stop jets as they landed on aircraft carriers. They weren’t going anywhere, but their comrades might free them, so he ripped their throats out to eliminate the risk.

Wolverine ghosted between the clusters of trees, occasionally feeling satisfied when his sharp ears picked up the occasional sound of more enemy soldiers getting caught. Something still felt wrong to him, though. This was probably only the first wave of them, he knew, and time wouldn’t really be on his side. But drawing too much attention to himself wasn’t a good idea, either. So Wolverine compromised with himself: he circled around the main ring and butchered the majority of them in silence, knowing there were a few scattered traps he missed that could be mopped up later. They weren’t going anywhere - no ordinary combat knife would be able to cut thick steel cables.

Like the scents, something about their uniforms was eerily familiar to him, but he still didn’t know why other than the fact that he associated them with physical pain. Had he encountered them before?

Wolverine made his way to the front entrance and took a deep sniff - nobody but him had come through here recently, so he’d kept them from getting inside. Grinning savagely to himself, he picked off the last few who’d been strung up, stopping at the very last one. This soldier would get to live for a few more minutes.

“You picked the wrong house, bub,” Wolverine snarled, reaching up and plucking the CB off the man’s webbing. He pressed down the button. “I don’t know who you are, but you might wanna rethink a few things. All your boys are dead except one, and he’s about to follow. Your choice.” He held his claws to the soldier’s neck: “Talk into the radio and tell them I ain’t lying.”

“He’s not lying,” the trooper whined into the speaker, fear dripping from the words as he also sputtered his name, rank and ID number to prove it.

“Perfect,” Wolverine hissed, still holding the button. He stabbed his claws into the man’s flank, letting whoever was on the other end hear the gurgling scream. “Did it all by myself, too. Stay the fuck away from my school.”

 

_Jeannie, it’s me. Open up._

By the time Logan came for them and his mind found hers, it was almost 7 in the morning. They’d come down to medical and hidden there since about 11:30, knowing the thick metal door would survive most conventional explosives. Bobby and Piotr were standing against the wall on either side of it, guarding with tired expressions on their faces, and most of the younger students had curled up and fallen asleep on the patient beds or the floor. The older ones were huddled together, probably out of fear, but at least they hadn’t been talking. It could’ve given them away.

When the door slid open, Jean almost flinched away from her boyfriend - Logan’s chest and face were liberally spattered with blood and his hair was plastered with it in some places, while his arms seemed to have been painted in gore up past his elbows.

“What happened?” she stammered, looking him up and down.

“Don’t know,” he grunted, scratching the side of his head. Flakes of dried blood scattered to the floor. “They’re dead now, though. It’s been long enough that I don’t think more are coming, and I reset all the traps.”

“Okay,” Jean nodded, not really knowing what to say to him right then. Many of the students were staring at Logan, seemingly more afraid of him than of whatever had tried to attack.

She sent all the kids back to the dorms and told them to go to sleep, and while Logan was showering she went to the comms device.

“Storm, Cyclops, are you there?”

 _“Go ahead,”_ Scott’s voice crackled through after a moment.

“Something happened over here a few hours ago, I don’t know what it was but Logan told us all to hide. It looked like he’d been through a blood bath when he came back, and he doesn’t know if more of them will show up… whoever ‘they’ are. What’s the status of your mission?”

_“We’ve located the mutant, he’s a teleporter named Nightcrawler. That’s why the professor had such a hard time finding him. He was under the control of some mind-altering substance when he attacked the president, and we’re bringing him back with us. Uh, we were actually contacted by Magneto, too.”_

Jean frowned. “What did he want?”

_“Well, he broke out of prison somehow and he said the professor’s been captured by some military officer named Stryker. He wants us to meet him at Alkali Lake.”_

“The place Logan went to?”

_“Yeah. Apparently there’s still a lab complex hidden under it, which is why he didn’t find anything when he was there. According to Magneto, Stryker’s been working there and experimenting on mutants for almost forty years, and he wants to use the professor to wipe us all out.”_

She shook her head in disbelief even though she knew Scott couldn’t see her. “That doesn’t make any sense…”

_“The same chemicals that brainwashed Nightcrawler were also used on Magneto when he was locked up. Stryker forced him to give up information about Cerebro.”_

“Oh my God,” she whispered, instantly drawing the connection. “How long until he tries to use it against us?”

 _“I don’t know, I guess Stryker couldn’t finish the thing on his own. I bet all the guys Logan killed were actually there to try and steal parts to complete the project.”_ Terrifyingly, it all fit perfectly together. Jean bit her lip. _“Anyway, we should be back in about an hour. We can plan everything then.”_

“Okay. Thanks, Scott. Be safe.”

_“Yeah, you too.”_

Jean rubbed her face in exhaustion, but she knew anxiety would keep her awake. Her boyfriend would more than likely go with them to attack Stryker, but of course she wouldn’t be allowed to. Her friends would be risking their lives and she couldn’t help them.

Logan was pulling on his sweatpants when she came into his room. His hair was still damp, clinging to his scalp, but at least all the blood was gone. Jean knew she had to tell him what was going on before Scott and Ororo got back, but she wasn’t sure how to approach the subject or if her boyfriend was still volatile after the slaughter he’d perpetrated.

“It’s okay,” he muttered, surprising her. “Can feel your thoughts when you get close, I already know.”

“I want you to be careful,” she insisted, but received a sarcastic grunt in reply.

“If he’s the one who tortured me, ‘careful’ ain’t in my vocabulary.”

“I mean it, Logan,” Jean stated firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. “If he made you into what you are, that means he knows how to destroy you.”

“I don’t care,” he snapped, yanking down the bottom hem of his wife beater. “He needs to fucking pay, and I’m the one who’s gonna make him. Okay, you don’t know what it’s like. You know who you are, you know where you were born and who your parents are, and you don’t wake up screaming most nights because you dream about getting chopped open to pour liquid metal into you.” He stopped, his eyes darkening. “Jesus… didn’t mean to yell, Jeannie, I just… fuck. He needs to fucking pay. That’s all there is to it.”

“Logan…”

“I know.” He sat down on the end of the bed. “I’ll be fine. Prob’ly just come back with a few more holes in my shirt like always.”

“I wish I could come with you,” Jean admitted, sitting beside him. “I haven’t skipped a mission like this in years.”

“Yeah, well…” Logan’s hand rested on her stomach. “Don’t think he cares much when it comes to skipping missions.”

“Don’t do that,” she whispered, pushing his arm away.

“Do what?” he questioned, frowning.

“Use gender-specific pronouns. It’s still an ‘it’ for now.”

“Can’t do that.” Her boyfriend shook his head slowly. “I gotta get ready, and as early as possible. Any living thing I’m s’posed to care about can’t just be an ‘it.’ Jeannie, listen to me, it ain’t gonna happen again. You know how hard _I_ am to kill, any offspring will get that, too. Let me do all the worrying for you, gonna do it anyways.”

The brown in Logan’s irises had receded, leaving them almost completely green with fear. He was just as scared as she was, and somehow that made her feel better. Jean knew he was beyond terrified and was trying to put on a brave face for her. She’d heard his thoughts in her dreams before Bobby had woken her up, picking up on the driving instincts warring with the cruel logic in his brain.

“You know,” Jean began slowly, “after reading so much and talking to people, it’s the consensus that you’re never actually ready to be a parent until it happens. And there’s still eight months to go, so you don’t have to be ready right now.”

Logan sighed. “Well, that’s a good thing, because I _ain’t_ ready right now. Don’t know anything about kids. I’ll fuck something up somewhere on the line, and fail him. Fail you both. I ain’t usually scared of anything, I know nothing can hurt me and do lasting damage, but this is a whole other level. Shit.”

“At least we get to be scared together,” Jean answered dryly.

She reached for his hand and their fingers twined.

 

“You’ll tell me everything,” Wolverine snarled, “or we’ll see how you like your own procedure.” His claws were retracted, but he didn’t need them right now. Stryker was trapped with a thick chain and had a dislocated shoulder from when the mutant had dragged him into the surgical hall. “Who am I?”

“James Logan,” Stryker wheezed. Wolverine hadn’t pulled any punches and the colonel was thoroughly brutalized. “You were part of Team X, and your brother Victor helped convince you to volunteer-”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Wolverine barked. “Didn’t ask about my brother, I asked about me!”

“You were one of my best soldiers. You volunteered for the procedure… and then a head wound erased your memories. After that you disappeared. I tried to find you… bring you back onto my team… but you left no trace.”

“Yeah, maybe that was the fucking idea,” Wolverine hissed through a clenched jaw. “You tortured me, you betrayed my trust, and I bet you’re the one who _gave_ me the fucking head wound.”

“I gave you your claws,” Stryker protested. “I’ve never known you to trust anyone. And now… you’re the one torturing me.”

“What goes around comes around, bub,” Wolverine sneered. “I ain’t gonna let you hurt anyone else with your lies. Have fun tryin’a get outta here when we blow the place. None of your shit will ever see the light of day again.”

Stryker howled in pain as Wolverine’s heavy combat boot stomped down on his ankle with a sickening crunch, ensuring he could never escape the lab. Wolverine ripped his dog tags off his neck and threw them at the officer’s feet, then turned and left the surgical hall without another word. His fists were still shaking with rage as he climbed onto the X-Jet and strapped himself in, and he was uncharacteristically silent the entire flight back to Salem as he tried to regain control of himself.

He didn’t stick around with the team after that, but went up to the teacher dorms and into his room. Jean was nowhere to be found, which was probably a good thing. He stripped off his uniform and immediately got in the shower.

His mind was still warring with itself - which one had really been in control at Alkali Lake today? Wolverine was all brutality and savage instinct, a predator that acted without thinking. Logan was raw hurt, an intelligent but broken man, who could _choose_ whether or not he was deliberately cruel. As the steaming water beat down on his face, he realized that even though Stryker had answered everything he’d asked, he had even less of an idea about who he really was than before.

His confused frustration was almost like a physical weight on his body, dragging him down at the neck. How could he volunteer for such a hideous experiment? How could he have ever worked for a sadistic, manipulative bastard like Stryker? Who was he? Why had he acted so much like Sabertooth down in the lab?

“Logan?” Jean knocked on the bathroom door.

_Fuck…_

Remembering what his life was about to become broke him, and Wolverine roared at the top of his lungs as he stabbed all six claws into the ceramic tiles on the wall up to his knuckles. Wrenching them out again and still screaming in depthless rage grown from fear, he rammed the blades back into the wall over and over again until his feet were buried in ceramic shards and chunks of sheetrock. Panting heavily, he whipped around at the sound of the plastic curtain sliding back, and as soon as he saw Jean standing there he was Logan again.

_Fuck._

He let her pull him out of the shower and rub his skin dry, but refused to meet her eyes. Jean dressed him like he was a helpless child and made him lie down after that; Logan just stayed sprawled on his back, boring holes into the ceiling with his eyes and not acknowledging her presence.

It took just two words to make him crack: “What happened?”

Logan told her everything.


	7. Epilogue

Jean found him flopped onto one of the couches in the TV room, but as soon as she started to say his name, Ororo whispered “Shhh.” from a different couch and pointed to Logan. Quietly coming around the side, she was met with an adorable scene: her fiance was half-on and half-off the piece of furniture, his right arm and leg dangling with the remote still loosely perched in his fingers. He’d clearly fallen asleep at least an hour ago, because he was snoring and Jean could see his eyes moving under the lids.

TJ was also out, sprawled on his stomach across his father’s chest and clenching fistfuls of Logan’s shirt. The three-year-old almost never wanted to take naps when Jean tried to put him down for one, but somehow Logan always managed it without too much fuss. Apparently today he’d been watching something as he waited for his son to fall asleep and had gone down for a few hours himself, and really Jean couldn’t blame him. TJ was more than a handful and took up about 158% of their time.

“Aren’t they cute like that?” Jean smiled, sitting next to her friend and pulling out her cell phone to take a picture.

“I found them here like this almost an hour ago, they haven’t moved,” Ororo chuckled. “I don’t know how long he’s been there, but it probably wouldn’t be smart to wake either of them up.”

Lying together in slumber, TJ and Logan couldn’t have looked more alike. His hair, eyes and face were a dead ringer for his father, though his skin tone was more like Jean’s. Both were in jeans and plaid shirts, TJ with his tiny blue sneakers and one of Logan’s muddy work boots on the arm of the couch.

As if he could sense Jean thinking about him, her fiance suddenly growled and dropped the remote so that he could rub his face. Logan rolled his head to the side and peeled open his eyes, smiling when they found hers.

“Hey, handsome. Have a nice nap?” she teased.

“Mph, yeah, I needed it,” he grunted before glancing at his watch. “Two hours. Long enough?”

“Yeah, that should be fine, he needs his afternoon snack anyway.”

“Right.” Logan’s palm came to TJ’s back, gently rubbing until the toddler started to squirm. “C’mon, little cub. You don’t even like naps, but now you won’t get up for me?” TJ whined, clenching his fingers even more tightly into the red flannel as Logan slowly sat up. “Okay, let’s go see Mommy.”

Jean took TJ from Logan and the three of them went into the kitchen. Her fiance rummaged the fridge briefly while she put a bib on their son and sat him up at the table.

“Yogurt okay?”

“Yeah, but make sure it’s vanilla or banana.”

“Is it the seeds?”

“They could make him choke,” she nodded, watching him spoon some into a small bowl before putting it back.

“Sorry, cub. Can’t give you real food until they can do therapy on you,” Logan apologized, setting it in front of TJ with a small plastic spoon. “You gonna do it yourself today, or you gonna make me do it?”

Typically, TJ just stared blankly down at the yogurt, not showing any sign that he’d heard. Last year Jean had been forced to take their son to a child psychologist, and her suspicions were confirmed when he’d said TJ displayed all the classic signs of an autism-spectrum disorder. These days Logan drove back and forth between Salem and Cambridge four days a week to bring him to specialists, but progress was slow at best. He still couldn’t be encouraged to talk at all, and only rarely looked at them.

Being a doctor, Jean hadn’t taken this discovery nearly as hard as her fiance; she knew that the barriers of autism could be overcome eventually, but hearing his son was anything less than perfect was heartbreaking for Logan. His reasoning was that TJ would’ve already had a hard enough time being a mutant, but the diagnosis more than tripled the difficulties they faced raising their child.

“Okay, little guy, you ready?” Logan held out a spoonful of yogurt and after a second TJ leaned his head forward and put his mouth on it, earning a supportive grin. Jean could still see the pain in his hazel eyes, though - he hadn’t come to terms with it yet, and probably wouldn’t for a while. All he could really do was put on a brave face until then.

“Hey, look at this,” Jean offered, knowing TJ would need a minute to finish swallowing. She pulled up the picture on the screen of her phone.

Logan snorted: “Looks about right. That from today?”

“Yeah. You two just looked so cute together that I had to take it.”

“Never expected to have my own clone,” he joked, turning to offer the next bite of yogurt. “Maybe I looked like that as a kid, too.”

Jean watched quietly for a few minutes as Logan fed their son. Pain was written into his every movement, but there was infinite love in them, too. “Okay, cub, you take one more big bite for me, okay?” If she was honest, she kind of felt the same way. Everything dealing with an autistic child was a painstaking struggle, trying to make sure everything was quiet all the time and keeping certain textured objects away from him so that he wouldn’t be set off. If he had any needs, he couldn’t voice them except to cry and force them to guess randomly until they found what was bothering him.

But TJ was still their son, and they loved him. Before he’d been born, Logan had suffered constant panic attacks and fits of rage because he didn’t think he had what it took to be a good father, but here they were three years later and he treated the toddler the same way he would if TJ was neurotypical. Every time Jean felt frustrated with the boy it seemed like two minutes later she would witness a moment like this, where Logan was trying harder at parenting than he’d ever tried at anything before, and it just made her love them both more.

In spite of everything - all the worry before TJ was born, and then him always being sick as a baby, to the autism diagnosis - Jean knew she wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
